


Stress Relief

by stellagaybson



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Drugs, F/F, Office Sex, Oval Office, also spoilers for season 5, just some good gay smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellagaybson/pseuds/stellagaybson
Summary: just another night in the oval office, i guess/// drugs cw ///





	Stress Relief

To say that it had been a long day would be an understatement. Claire Underwood thought that she had been getting used to the long days ever since Francis became President of the United States. Hell, even when he was Vice President it took up just a little too much of her time. She thought that, like Frank, she could handle the near 24 hours a day of meetings, visits and briefings in the situation room that had become more and more common lately. Francis had warned her of the late nights but this is ridiculous, she thought to herself. It’s no wonder that previous presidents appeared to have aged at a much faster rate during their four, or indeed eight, years in the Oval Office. 

This is where Claire stood now, in the Oval, cigarette in hand as she watched the night sky out of the window. This wasn’t a great view of the sky, now that she thought about it, and she couldn’t see the stars because of the clouds, but still, looking out of a window is something that Claire found peaceful. Or, at the very least, she found it thought provoking. She got some of her best thinking done when smoking a cigarette by an open window. Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the nicotine. Maybe it was the fact that Francis was usually there, someone who she could bounce ideas off of. She was alone now, though, and the windows here didn’t open, of course, so the smoke she breathed lingered for a while, silent and heavy in the air. 

A small tap at the door. Claire didn’t even hesitate before saying “Come in,” since there is no use in wondering who on earth is at your door in the middle of the night when you’re the President of the United States. It’s going to be important, regardless of who it is. Jane Davis steps into the office as quiet as a whisper, “Claire,” she says, her deep voice breaking through the silence. She closes the door behind her and makes her way to the sofas in the middle of the room, “I hope it’s not too late. I can never sleep when it’s about to storm,” Jane plonks herself down on one of the sofas, setting down her bag by her feet and throwing a folder onto the coffee table. 

The President tries not to flinch at those words as the new presence in the room brings with it a sense of normality, a humanness that is rarely found in the capital, “No, it’s fine, of course,” she lifts up her cigarette and asks, “Would you like one?”

“No, thanks, I won’t be long. I’ve got something for you to read and I just need you to sign off on it.” Jane crossed her legs, watching the President. Claire exhales the last of the smoke and puts out her cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the Resolute. She grabs her reading glasses and moves to sit opposite Jane on the other sofa in the room. She crosses her legs also and Jane’s eyes flick down to notice that Claire still has her heels on. Claire swipes the folder from the table and begins to read, not before she takes a moment before trying to concentrate on the file inside. The cigarette had left her head feeling a little light.

After a few moments, Jane leans forward, which gets Claire’s attention, “I have something a little more,” she lowers her eyelids and looks at her with a stare that defies the President to look away, “...herbal, to smoke, if you don’t mind?” 

Claire is surprised that she is surprised by that, although she doesn’t let her guest know it. She smiles a little, “Of course not.” And goes back to reading. “Thanks,” Jane says, “It helps me relax,” she rummages in her bag and pulls out a leather pouch. It looks like any other wallet a professional woman might have except this wallet contains three perfectly pre-rolled joints. Claire found this out of character for Jane. Although she does fully understand that she knows very little of Jane’s character, if at all, since they began working closely together. Claire watched Jane as she took a lighter from her jacket to spark up the joint in her hand, she peered over the top of the file. She didn’t even bother attempting to hide the fact that she wasn’t reading it any more. Jane shoved the pouch back into her bag on the floor. Claire shifts in her seat and now makes an effort to concentrate on the text in front of her. She hadn’t smoked in years, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to start again. The room is dull with only a single lamp spilling out yellow light, and so, when Jane takes a long drag on the joint her face is momentarily flushed red.

It’s only now that Jane can begin to relax. She slides down in her seat, placing her arm that is holding the joint on the armrest of the sofa, resting her head on the sofa behind her. Jane’s eyes finally lift to look at Claire. To take her all in. The most powerful woman in the world was sat right here in front of her and the weight of the situation didn’t escape her. This has happened to Jane before, of course, except that they had always been powerful men sitting in Claire’s position. They had always been foolish. And they had always underestimated her. With Claire Underwood, it was different. She kept her cards close to her chest, as did Jane, although the difference with Claire was that she didn’t allow even the slightest thing to be inferred. She will tell you if you are useless to her. She will tell you if she is threatened by you. And she had always been this way. “It’s been a long time,” Jane had said to Claire when she first shook the acting president’s hand. Now that Claire was President, Jane was keen to not let that amount of time pass by again.

Claire had managed to read almost half of the document before Jane shatters the silence with a low, “Would you like some?” She is leant forward again now, arm placed across her knees, the other outstretched towards Claire, the joint smelling stronger than ever. Claire looks Jane in the eyes and doesn’t move for the briefest moment, making the decision whether or not to indulge. It had been a long time since Claire had smoked. Since she and Francis began to take their career seriously and came up with a plan for their future, drugs had never crossed her mind. She had the disadvantage of being the addictive type, although she was always in control with whatever she took and had never taken any hard drugs. Cigarettes were a hard enough habit for her to kick and so she can only imagine what becoming addicted to any kind of drugs would have done for her career. There was a time or two with Adam, she remembers, where they would smoke together. He said he didn’t really like it, but he said he had the best sex whilst high, so she couldn’t see why a little weed now and then would hurt. Adam was right, she thought. Sex whilst high was very, very good. 

If Claire took too long to decide, Jane didn’t show it. She hovered her hand there, smoke still slightly escaping her nostrils, hooded eyes fixated on the President. “Alright,” Claire said, dropping the folder back onto the coffee table. 

Jane smiles, one of the biggest smiles that Claire has seen since they had been working together, and hands Claire the joint. She slips off her own heels and falls back into the sofa, legs crossed and her hands clasped over her stomach, a small smile still on her lips. Claire takes in a small drag at first, exhales the smoke and expects to cough. When nothing happens, she confidently takes another drag, deeper this time, she inhales and holds it briefly before letting out the smoke through pursed lips. She coughs this time, her eyes immediately water, and she hands a now chuckling Jane back her joint. Jane has lifted herself and arrived at Claire’s side, sat on the sofa beside her and rubbing her back. “Try not to cough too much,” Jane says, her husky voice making Claire shiver a little, “It’ll go right to your head if you keep coughing.” Jane quickly got up again to retrieve the glass of water that was sat on the desk. Claire takes it and downs the rest of the glass as Jane sits back down next to her. 

“Thanks,” Claire says, wiping the tears from her eyes, “It’s been a long time.” Jane grins and has stopped rubbing Claire’s back now, she settles into the sofa and positions her body so as to face the President. Her legs are crossed, an arm draped over the back of the sofa and she takes another drag. Claire doesn’t seem to relax straight away. Jane notices that she still hasn’t taken her heels off. Is this all for appearances? Claire has removed her shoes in front of her before during another one of these late night meetings. Her posture is a little rigid and she hasn’t fully turned her body to face Jane. “Are you okay?” Jane finds herself asking, although she knows that she won’t get a real answer. “I’m fine,” Claire answers, now turning to face Jane and look at her. Her eyelids had drooped just a bit and Jane wishes she could allow herself a laugh at Claire’s expense. But that wouldn’t go down well. 

“Why do you always stay here so late?” Claire asks, “You mustn’t get much sleep,” she fumbles around with the watch on her wrist. It’s better than wringing her hands. Jane hands Claire back the joint after another drag and exhales the smoke slowly, watching it curl around itself in the air. It hangs there, as if suspended by wires, before vanishing quickly. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Jane answers simply. She knows this isn’t a satisfying answer, because she does always have other things she could be getting on with, other phone calls to have, other people to organise. But she knows that if she answers as generically as possible, Claire won’t push for a real answer. Because truthfully, Claire doesn’t really want to know what Jane gets up to when she’s not helping her out. They knew each other a long time ago and they were both as closed off as then as they are now. Even more so, probably. And so each of the women share a smile, and a nod, and they mutually decide to leave the probing for another time. 

After another couple of silent rounds with the joint, it’s done. Jane gets up to find the ashtray and feels her head swimming. She holds her hands out at her side, trying to balance herself. “That was good shit,” she hears herself saying, and this time she wishes she hadn’t. What a childish thing to say. She doesn’t turn around to face Claire but she can hear a soft laugh coming from that side of the room, and she sighs, “How awful. I’m sorry.” When Jane turns around, Claire has taken off her shoes, crossed her legs underneath her and is leaning back into the sofa, her head lolling back, her hair haphazard. Jane’s stomach flips. “It’s fine,” Claire says, “I agree. I feel good.” Jane puts out the joint and settles back down on the sofa next to the President. She’s glad that she’s able to bring this sort of relief to her. God knows Jane wouldn’t like to undertake the task of being President of the United States without the aid of a joint or two. It helps that she finds Claire incredibly attractive, and making her feel good is making Jane feel incredibly nauseous. She had never been given a definite rejection from Claire when she admitted to having feelings for her a while ago. “I like being around you and sometimes that makes me less efficient,” she had said. Ever since Jane had revealed this, whatever it was that filled the air between them made each silence they shared together almost unbearable. She isn’t even sure if Claire would reject her, given the chance, but Jane is more afraid of rejection than she lets on. As she expects Claire is, too. 

“The reason I like to stay so late,” Jane says, her fingers twitching and slowly moving to bridge the gap on the sofa between her hand and Claire’s, “Is so that I can spend more time with you,” Jane’s fingers brush lightly against Claire’s, “But you already knew that.” 

Claire doesn’t recoil. She lifts her head up and looks Jane in the eyes with that stare. It’s the kind that doesn’t fully let you know what’s going on inside her head. It is used to weaken the enemy. It is used to intimidate the ally. Jane swallows. She immediately regrets this decision. She’s pushed it too far. She’s going to have to leave the capital, go back to business in the Middle East, or Asia, just so long as Claire Underwood is miles and miles away. But, Claire sits up and pulls Jane’s arm towards her, and the rest of Jane’s body follows. They’re now sitting extremely close, and the air between them is thick. Jane can feel Claire’s breath on her face, and she can’t help but flick her gaze down to Claire’s lips. Neither want to be the first. But Jane doesn’t know if she has the courage to go for it. It’s rare that someone can make her feel this flustered. So unsure of herself.

It’s Claire who is the first to lean in closer, and Jane is relieved. She takes the opportunity and they hover, mouths almost touching, for a second before finally coming together in a soft, slow kiss. Lightly, at first, and then Jane brings a hand up to cup Claire’s face. Jane didn’t know what to expect but her skin is softer than silk. As she breathes in deeply, Claire’s perfume seeps through the smell of smoke. Jane kisses her a bit harder now, and Claire’s legs slowly unfold from beneath her. Her feet touch the floor. She positions herself more comfortably on the sofa but Jane is still close to Claire, their bodies up against each other. Claire’s hands begin their journey across the small gap between their bodies and she strokes Jane’s thigh. Her hand is welcome, and Jane decides to let her own hand travel from Claire’s face and to her neck, over her shoulder and back round to her chest. Claire slides her mouth along Jane’s jaw now, planting slow, deep kisses as she goes. She arrives at Jane’s neck and moves just below her ear. She nibbles at the flesh there and sucks a little before leaving another kiss. She knows that Jane wouldn’t care that she left a mark, but she wasn’t sure if she would like to see the reminder at a meeting in the morning. 

Jane is breathing heavily at the touch of the President. She’s desperately warm. She reluctantly removes her hands from Claire’s body and takes off her jacket. The blue blouse beneath is practically see through although it’s tough to see it now in the dark. But Claire knows. She had spotted a flash of Jane’s bra earlier in the day. She wonders if she wore these blouses on purpose so as to taunt her. To lure her in. Was this all part of a plan? Has Jane been waiting for the right moment to strike? What does this mean? Does Jane want leverage over her? The answers to these questions were entirely uninteresting, as Claire decided that she didn’t care about those things right now. All she cared about was the woman next to her who was about to make her orgasm in the Oval Office for the first time. She wonders if Frank had ever done anything in here. She wonders exactly how many presidents before her had desecrated this office. The thought makes her bite the skin on the inside of her mouth. She takes off her glasses and throws them onto the coffee table. 

It happened so fast and Claire wasn’t expecting it at all. Jane had stood up. She quickly yanks up her skirt so that it’s almost at her hips. She leans down to pin Claire’s arms at her side and straddles her so that she is sat on her legs. Claire liked this. It was unexpected, and that’s what she finds most attractive about Jane. Her innovation. Jane’s lips find Claire’s again and they share a heated kiss. Claire could feel herself wanting to move her hips to try and get some friction against her. Jane knows this. She doesn’t allow the President to use her arms for quite some time, and she admits that she enjoys the control. Jane takes the time to kiss Claire everywhere she can reach. She breaks away and hovers for a moment until Claire’s eyes seem to beg for more and then she goes in to give her another soft, forceful kiss on the mouth. It’s becoming a bit too much for Claire, Jane gathers, as her hips are restless and her arms are tense in her hands. Jane releases her arms, and moves her own down to reach for Claire’s skirt that she drags up, just like her own, freeing her legs to spread wide. She can see Claire’s underwear now and even in the darkness she can see that they’re white. Pure. Jane smirks. 

As Claire unbuttons her own blouse, she notices the smirk on Jane’s face. She enjoys that look. And she needs this now. She pulls at the ribbon on Jane’s own blouse and it falls open to reveal her bra and heaving chest. Claire slowly traces her fingers along Jane’s bra, passes over her collarbone and slides her hand down to find the small of her back. Jane sits back a little and enjoys the fact that Claire is drawing her silhouette. She can feel Claire’s heat from beneath her own and she doesn’t know how much longer she can go without a release. Claire has sat up now, holding Jane’s back with one hand and delves the other down to find the front of Jane’s pants. She teases her for a moment, just enough for Jane to begin bucking her hips, which is what Claire really wants. She goes faster now, shoving her hand inside her pants to find her wetness. It makes her own seem less somehow, but that just turns her on even more because she knows that Jane is aching for this. Jane brings her hands up to grip the back of the sofa, one either side of Claire’s head, and she begins to grind her cunt on the President’s fingers. 

It’s no surprise that they don’t last very long. Claire takes the hand from Jane’s back and puts it in her pants to feel her own wetness, her fingers knowing exactly how to toy with her cunt. Heavy, ragged breaths escape each of their mouths in unison. Jane grinds harder now. The leverage from holding onto the back of the sofa helps to get the position just right. Claire is looking up at Jane, who has her head back, eyes closed. She wants her to look her in the eyes when it happens, she wants to see the vulnerability just before the ecstasy. “Look at me,” Claire breathes. Jane immediately does as she is told. Her hazel eyes find the President’s blue ones and they hold the stare together. They dare not look away. Finally, they reach their own peaks together and Claire’s body shakes beneath Jane’s as she lets out the smallest moan Jane has ever heard. This brings her over the edge too and she knows not to make too much noise, so she brings a fist to her mouth to bite down on her knuckles. Her body curves, hunched over Claire’s writhing frame and they have both closed their eyes now. They allow themselves to bask in the orgasm for a moment before the feeling slowly dissipates. When Jane opens her eyes to look at Claire, to make sure she hasn’t changed her mind, to make sure she still thought this was a good idea, she’s already looking at her. 

It makes her feel exposed. She is suddenly aware of her opened blouse, her soaking pants, her skirt around her hips. She knows that Claire is feeling the exact same, though, and the look she’s giving her isn’t one of intimidation, it’s gratitude. Claire takes her hand from inside Jane’s pants and she smiles a little before a laugh trickles out of her like a stream of water. It’s infectious. Jane slips off of Claire and lands next to her, their legs still touching. They both laugh now, not caring if they’re loud. Not caring who may happen to hear them. Laughter is innocent, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> you cannot tell me that jane davis is a heterosexual woman!!!!  
> also thanks to max for helping me out and yeah this is the first fic i've written for a while so i hope it's not too bad


End file.
